


Pizza Boxes

by crucib3lle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: College AU, M/M, attack on titan - Freeform, jeanmarco, pizza boy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:30:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1326730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucib3lle/pseuds/crucib3lle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschtien is a well off college student with no friends. He spends his time binge playing video games, procrastinating, and stuffing his face with pizza.  That is, until a certain freckled delivery boy catches his attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pizza Boxes

It’s the first Friday of the semester here at Trost University, and instead of spending time with brand new friends, or attending one of the many overzealous campus events meant to welcome Freshman to the school, I am holed up in my off campus apartment alone. I really shouldn’t complain; the apartment that my parents insisted on paying for is nice, really nice, but there’s a part of me that would rather be spending my first year at college in a crappy, cramped dorm room surrounded by people. My apartment is nice,its spacious and my mom made sure to deck each room out in trendy IKEA furniture, but it’s lonely. It would be nice to have a living room full of people, as opposed to pillows; but I’ve never been very good at making friends anyway, people either intimidate me or infuriate me and I’m not good at dealing with either. 

So here I am, spending some good ‘ol quality time with my Xbox. I know that I have homework waiting for me, I do, but lets be honest, what kind of self respecting college student does their homework the day its assigned. Not a single one. I have already resolved that my weekends will be spent procrastinating until I can’t stand it and then dissolving into a fit of stress on Sunday night.   
The apartment complex is just a block away from campus, and every so often a group of loud students passes below me on the sidewalk, their excited conversation floating through my empty living room window and interrupting my intense game of Halo: Reach. I redirect my focus to the television screen every time, swaying from side to side as if moving my body erratically will help me defeat my target with more ease. I’m buried in the world of aliens and first person shooters when a low grumble arises from the pits of my stomach. “When was the last time I ate?”, I question myself out loud to the empty room. The answer to that question is an easy, “I have absolutely no idea”, so I decide that its time to order myself a pizza. An entire large pizza, to myself. The living room is covered with blankets and pillows, I may have only been moved in for a week, but hey, what can I say? I like being comfortable. 

My phone is hidden somewhere among the mess, and I have to spend a few minutes searching before I find it lodged between my ass and a pillow. How it got there, I can’t tell you. It’s my first time ordering pizza in this city, so I scroll through the yellow pages app on my smart phone before settling on a close, local pizza joint and dial the number. It won’t be long before I have the number memorized, the last time I tried to cook a meal for myself I fill my entire house with smoke and my parents decided it would be best to keep me out of the kitchen. I’m not sure if I want to chance burning down my apartment just yet. The phone rings for a while and then a male voice laced with false cheer picks up on the other end, “Hello, Pizza Thyme, how may I help you?” I contemplate for a few moments and then begin my order, “One large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, jalapenos, and anchovies. Oh, and half with olives. And I’d like a 2-liter of mountain dew, please.”   
“Okay sir, is that take out or delivery?” the pleasant voice asks me.   
“Delivery, please.” I give the guy my address, name, and card information.  
“Alrighty, your total is $25.51; you can expect your order in about 30 minutes. Have a terrific evening, sir!”   
I hang up abruptly, slightly annoyed with the phony happiness. I get grumpy when I’m hungry, and right now my stomach is growling every few minutes. “Shut up, will you?” I grumble at my abdomen.

I toss my phone back into the mess of blankets and direct my focus back to killing aliens and trying not accidentally fall off a cliff and lose yet another life. I was getting really into the land of the first person shooter, because when the door bell rang 30 minutes later, clear and high pitched through my apartment, I jump clear into the air. For the first time tonight, I’m thankful that there isn’t anyone else here, no one to witness me startled like a small child at the sound of a chime. 

“Coming!” I shout, as I make my way through the maze of my blankets and grab my wallet from the kitchen counter before opening the door.   
When I do, standing in front of me is a guy who looks roughly my age, he’s tall, slightly taller than me with a darker complexion and dark brown hair that parts in the middle. His eyes are slightly lighter than the hair on his head, but what stands out the most is the sprinkling of freckles that litter his face.   
For a split second, I wonder if the freckles cover the rest of his body as well, but I shake the thought from my mind and return to the task at hand. Pizza Jean, he’s here to deliver your pizza.The delivery boy smiles at me, and his eyes light up his face. He’s a lot more enthusiastic than your average pizza boy, and I’m sure that he was the cheery voice on the other side of the phone when I ordered.   
“Jean Kirschtein?” he asks, holding out a large pizza box and a 2-liter of soda.   
I decide to make this short, as my stomach is growling so loudly that I’m sure even he can hear it.   
“Yep, that’s me.”  
He hands me the food and the bottle.   
“ There’s your pizza, nice and hot. Having a party?”, He asks, probably due to the volume of the pizza that I ordered.   
I’m a little pissed off at this point, my stomach is still making noises expectantly and his question reminds me that I don’t have any friend to throw a party for, that no, this pizza is just for me.  
“No. Just me. Really hungry” , I respond sharply, patting my stomach.  
I hastily pull a twenty out of my wallet and toss it at the delivery guy, turning towards the living room and closing the door just slow enough to catch him say, “Have a great night!” There was a smile in his words, and I suddenly feel bad for being so rude to someone so genuine.

I sulk my way back to the couch, ready to devour the pizza and sit down amongst the mess. While stuffing my face with greasy food and playing Halo one handed, my mind wonders back to Mr. freckles.   
I wonder what his name is, and why he was so nice to a rude stranger that just so happened to be on his   
delivery route.


End file.
